


The Original Dick Trick

by McSpot



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2006-2007 NHL Season, 5+1 Things, Asexuality Spectrum, Awkward Sexual Situations, M/M, Masturbation, Miscommunication, Porn with too much plot, San Jose Sharks, but it's weird and guilty, the longest 5+1 you've ever seen, the plot twist is that they're both dumb, this developed far more Feelings than it was supposed to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28045251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McSpot/pseuds/McSpot
Summary: Joe is pretty sure that he and Patty are on the same page about their feelings for each other, and it seems like Patty feels the same way, except for the soul-crushing way he keeps turning down Joe's advances. What follows is a truly uncomfortable foray into attempting to seduce your best friend, and learning the importance of positive communication skills.Or, Five Times Joe Tried to Proposition Patty, and One Time Patty Propositioned Joe
Relationships: Patrick Marleau/Joe Thornton
Comments: 51
Kudos: 163





	The Original Dick Trick

**Author's Note:**

> This of course started as a planned 5k fic and turned out longer than every other Patty/Jumbo fic in fandom combined, and I apologize for that because this pairing deserves LIBRARIES full of fics, but by God they should not be known by THIS fic. Started in a chatfic with flufflybunnypants as per usual, and then I couldn't let go of the idea of actually writing it out.
> 
> The title is because it's Jumbo and a fic about Jumbo's dick and he technically gets off four times in this fic so like. It's def a dick trick of Jumbo's dick. ~~Alternative title was going to have to be "Stroke It, Patty."~~
> 
> Unedited, wrote it at 4am, etc etc. See end notes for full spoilery explanations of the tags.

1.

Joe liked to think that he and Patty were on the same page. Ever since he'd been traded to the Sharks last November, they'd immediately functioned on the same wavelength, both on and off the ice. They put up points together, they pushed each other to succeed. Joe had the best season of his career so far with Patty at his side.

Walking into a new dressing room had been intimidating, especially with the way he left Boston, but befriending Patty wasn't like getting to know a brand new person. They'd been only passingly familiar with each other after being drafted first and second overall back in 1997, but from Joe's first day as a Shark, he and Patty fit together like childhood friends. They read each other in a way Joe had never experienced before with another person, like he was already familiar enough with Patty that he could predict where he would be on the ice or what he'd want for dinner.

They were road roommates, and it was honestly one of the most enjoyable relationships of Joe's life. They were together constantly, on the bus, on planes, exploring different cities on their days off. When they were in San Jose, they still went out for lunch or watched movies together. They spent so much time together that when Joe called home, his mother asked, "How's Patrick?" and would usually demand that Joe put him on the phone, because she knew without asking that he'd be there, and because she had a favorite son and it was not Joe.

They got close enough that even after playing less than a full season together, Joe had made the trip out to Saskatchewan over the summer to visit Patty and meet his parents. If that wasn't dedication to their relationship, Joe didn't know what more he could do, short of having it put up on the jumbotron during a game.

Which is all to say, by the time they'd been playing together for about a year, Joe liked to think he knew Patty pretty well. Everyone knew the writing was on the wall for a long time. It made sense that they would take the next step in their relationship, together.

Granted, he could have perhaps gone about it with more tact, but Patty didn't like him for his tact.

Still, he likely could have been a little classier than what he did do, which was to come out of the shower in their shared hotel room wearing nothing but a towel, drape himself across the duvet of his own bed, and announce, "I think we should fuck."

Patty didn't even look up from his book. "No."

...Well that wasn't quite the response he was expecting. A bit of protest, perhaps, and debating about how _no, they shouldn't, they're teammates!_ But not just like...flat denial.

"Okay, maybe I asked that wrong," Joe began.

_"Maybe?"_

"Fuck you – sorry, okay, I meant, I think we should fuck, but with feelings. No, wait, this is backwards: so we should fuck, and then tomorrow I'll take you out on a date."

Patty watched this whole speech with the same mildly amused raised eyebrow, face never changing. Joe knew that meant he wasn't offended by anything Joe had said, but he didn't seem to be overwhelmingly enthusiastic either.

"We have a game tomorrow."

They did, actually – they had a flight out of Minnesota early tomorrow morning and a game in Edmonton that night.

"The next day! We have a free day in Calgary after that, and I'll take you out on a date. We can go to that steakhouse that has the barbecue sauce that you like."

Honestly they were basically dating already, but it would be cool to put a label on it and be able to get away with holding Patty's hand sometimes, or pressing their ankles together under the table and not having to be self-conscious about too much contact. To know that he got to kiss Patty at the end of the night.

Dating would be awesome.

But Patty just kept looking at him with that same dry expression that did not look like he was about to announce that he very much wanted to go on a date with Joe after they rocked each other's worlds.

"But we haven't even kissed yet."

Joe perked up, finally sitting upright on the bed. He had to grab his towel at the last second so that he didn't lose it entirely – flashing Patty a little bit of what was to come could have been a good idea, but perhaps not when he was trying to finesse the situation to get to the point where the towel could come off.

"Can I kiss you?" He didn't even try not to sound eager; Patty was hot, and Joe's dick was getting a bit eager too under that towel.

Patty looked like he was considering it for all of half a second before he said, "No, not tonight."

Joe blinked. "No?"

"No," Patty agreed.

He turned back to his book, leaving Joe sitting there at a loss for words on the edge of his bed, one hand fisted in a towel that was covering his half-hard and increasingly disappointed dick.

After how well they'd always understood each other, Joe didn't think he'd ever felt so wrong-footed with Patty in the entire time he'd known him. It wasn't a feeling he wanted to get used to.

"Um, does that mean – I mean – so maybe another time?" His voice got embarrassingly high as he rambled on, trying and failing to hide the flash of anxiety curdling in his chest. Joe didn't _get_ anxious, not about Patty, but he honestly hadn't considered a possibility where maybe Patty just like – really didn't want him at all.

It wasn't just the fucking (though he'd been looking forward to that immensely), but it was also just...everything.

He'd thought they were going in the same direction.

Maybe it was the way his voice nearly cracked, or the way that Joe shuffled to make sure that his towel was firmly closed and covering him, but Patty looked up at him over the top of his book and said in a voice that was less teasing and far too gentle and knowing, "Another time."

And Joe didn't know why he couldn't kiss Patty, but the tension started to release in his chest all the same. It wasn't a "no"; it was a "later." And Joe could handle later. He could wait as long as he had to, for Patty.

"Okay," he agreed quietly. "Another time."

When he chanced a glance to the other bed, Patty was smirking down at his book.

"Jumbo," he said, "Go put some pants on."

Joe could do that. He could wait. And also put pants on. And if he waited long enough, maybe Patty would be asking him to take them off soon.

He'd just have to plan his attack a little better for the next time.

2.

"Next time" turned out to be about ten days later, in a hotel room in New York City. They'd just gotten back from lunch, just the two of them at a little family-owned Italian place that Nabby insisted was the real deal, like he was some sort of authority on authentic Italian cuisine. But he hadn't been wrong: the food was excellent, and it had been like all of their other lunches together, except that Joe was increasingly starting to realize how most of their meals together qualified as "fun and flirty and great date material," and once he'd thought of it, he couldn't unthink it. He found himself more than once reaching for Patty's hand as they walked around the city, taking detours on the way back to the hotel just to pass the time together, and had to forcibly stop himself from doing so. He didn't want to do anything before Patty was ready for it, even if it was the kind of shit that Joe had done with his first girlfriend at age fourteen, even before he kissed her for the first time.

Joe stripped his shirt off as soon as the door to their room was closed, kicking his shoes off next. Patty snorted a laugh as he passed by, sitting down on the edge of his own bed and grabbing the television remote. There wasn't likely anything that exciting on basic cable on a Tuesday afternoon, but that wasn't going to stop Patty from trying.

"You know..." Joe rocked back on his heels, tucking his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans.

"Hmm?" Patty wasn't even looking at him, still flipping through channels.

Not a very auspicious start, once again. Joe winced internally and tried to drum up every ounce of courage he'd ever felt.

"I was thinking...it is, you know... _later_?"

"Later what?"

Joe grimaced. "When I asked if I could kiss you? And you said another time? And now it's been ten days-"

The edge of Patty's lips curled up in a smirk as he watched Joe from the corner of his eye, still facing the tv. "You've been counting? Seriously?"

Joe told himself that it was possible to stop a blush through sheer force of will. He wasn't sure that it worked, but it made him feel a little better.

"Yes." He tried not to sound too defensive. "It's important to me."

He wasn't sure what to call what happened next, but it was almost as if Patty...softened. Not to say he wasn't soft, because Patrick Marleau was just about the softest captain in the NHL. If the league handed out an award for the Most Wholesome, Joe was pretty sure that Patty would win it, if only because only Joe ever saw his devious side, and even his devious side was soft.

The remote was placed on Patty's bed, and he actually looked at Joe, giving him his full attention. It shouldn't have felt nearly as heady as it was, to stand there and know that he had Patrick Marleau's undivided attention, like he was being evaluated and desperately wanted to be deemed acceptable.

"It's important, huh?" Patty mused softly, eyes unreadable but expression fond.

Joe swallowed and nodded, took a step closer to Patty's bed.

"Yeah," he rasped, "It's all I can think about, how badly I've wanted to kiss you."

He didn't know how long he stood there, waiting for Patty to pass judgment as his eyes roved over Joe's face, his chest, like that would give him whatever answer he was searching for. Whatever he found, it must have been something good, because he smiled and slowly stood up.

"Well, I can't leave you hanging like that," he mused, stretching his arms over his head. It made his shirt ride up, and Joe saw Patty naked on a regular basis, but the sight of his fully nude body in a locker room had nothing on how quickly blood rushed to Joe's dick at that quick flash of pale skin and sparse dark hair disappearing under Patty's jeans.

Joe stood there with sweaty palms and a racing heart, feeling abruptly like he was a teenager having his first kiss again and not twenty-seven and about to kiss his best friend. His best friend who he also wanted to have sex with and date and maybe live the rest of his life with, but no pressure or anything.

He watched as Patty slowly approached him, stopping when he was just scant inches away from Joe. Patty looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, looking awfully pleased with himself.

"Well?"

And never let it be said that Joe Thornton couldn't rise to a challenge like that. He placed one hand on Patty's hip, and when Patty didn't object, he rested the other against his face, cupping Patty's jaw. He likely could have passed a happy eternity there, staring into Patty's amused blue eyes and feeling the rasp of Patty's burgeoning stubble against the pad of his thumb, but he had a few more pressing matters.

Patty's lips were soft under his own, more than they had any right to be, and Joe knew instantly that kissing Patty was going to be an addiction he'd never shake. He tried to keep it chaste, closed-mouthed, careful not to push Patty further than he was comfortable with, but all of those thoughts flew out of his brain the moment that Patty nipped his lower lip; when Joe pulled away in sheer surprise, Patty smirked and whispered against his mouth, "Kiss me like you mean it, Jumbo."

And that, Joe could do. He pulled Patty even closer to him, sliding the hand on his jaw around the back of his neck so that he could tilt Patty's head back, better control the kiss. And Patty let him, opened his mouth under Joe's, made a soft little noise that would be replaying in Joe's fantasies for the rest of his life as he pressed into the kiss. Patty's movements were slow but sure, firm and soothing and electric, and he kissed Joe like maybe he'd been waiting for it too.

Patty threaded his fingers in Joe's hair, his other hand splayed between Joe's shoulders, and Joe never wanted to breathe again if it meant he had to break this moment.

Just like the rest of him, Joe's dick was rising to the occasion, and he regretted keeping his jeans on. Patty kept kissing him, using the hand in Joe's hair to move Joe as he wanted him, and Joe thought that he would gladly let Patty do whatever he wanted with him.

He slid his hand on Patty's waist across to his front, slid his fingertips under the edge of Patty's t-shirt, brushing just barely against the coarse dark hair that had been taunting him a few minutes ago, at the button of his jeans-

And then his lips were bereft and his wrist was held in a gentle but firm grip, Patty leaning back to get a proper look at Joe.

"No," he said, and he didn't look angry, but his tone brooked no argument.

Joe wasn't looking to argue, but it took far longer than he was comfortable admitting for him to put his thoughts in order when he felt like his brain had dropped to his dick and his soul had ascended into a higher plane of existence.

"Uh – I'm sorry, I thought-" He'd thought that they were on the same page this time, but apparently he and Patty were reading from entirely different books this year, because Patty just shook his head.

"No."

It was almost gentle – he could have been a lot crueler if he wanted to, but that wasn't who Patty was. He was kind, but his voice was firm, no mistaking his meaning.

Apparently he could humor Joe with a kiss, but anything else was too far.

"I'm sorry?" Joe wasn't sure entirely what he was sorry for, but he must have been moving too fast, because Patty was _okay_ just a moment ago, definitely seemed like he was enjoying himself too, but now-

He blinked at Patty, awaiting some type of explanation for what had gone wrong, for what he had to do differently, but nothing was offered. Patty's grip on Joe's wrist loosened until he was holding Joe's hand, which he squeezed once and let go of.

"Remember that we've got a team dinner tonight," he said, and with a quick smile he was straightening his shirt and on his way out the door, leaving Joe standing there with his dick painfully hard in his jeans and his heart painfully confused in his chest.

There were moments in any person's life where they did something so incredibly wrong that they could immediately tell that they'd made a huge, life-altering mistake.

Joe had the sinking feeling that he'd just made one of those.

3.

The worst part was that Patty acted like nothing had changed. He came back to the room about thirty minutes later, talking about something that Little Joe and the other rookies had gotten up to like he hadn't just walked out after Joe fucked up the most amazing kiss of his life.

Joe was fresh from the coldest shower he had ever taken, hair curling damply against the collar of the shirt he'd pulled back on. He generally hated to wear a shirt when he had the option not to, but it just didn't feel right sitting half-naked in front of Patty after...that.

Maybe Patty was doing them both a favor, letting Joe implicitly know that they could both forget about what happened, let bygones be bygones and all that. He'd let them go back to their normal friendship and they wouldn't have to mess up the team dynamic.

But Joe's lips were still buzzing and his chest felt tight as his brain kept replaying the kiss, trying to figure out what signals he'd misread, because Patty had kissed him back, he'd even encouraged him, and the moment Joe moved his hand-

"Joe – hey, are you okay?"

He blinked, eyes refocusing on Patty standing next to his bed, wearing the expression that said he thought something was wrong and he wasn't going to buy whatever bullshit Joe tried to sell him. And that almost made it worse, because why could Joe still read him so well in times like this, but misjudge the situation so terribly when it mattered the most?

"Just...a little distracted," he mumbled, and then he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

Thanks to some deity taking pity on his pathetic soul, he was able to keep from squirming uncomfortably under Patty's scrutiny, and while Patty clearly didn't trust that everything was fine, he didn't press any further.

"I said the rookies are all arguing about where to go for dinner. Apparently Clowey wants some ritzy sushi place he saw in a magazine and Pickles is hardcore pushing for Applebee's just to fuck with him."

"Who let them think they had any say in it anyway?" Joe muttered, feeling like he was a half-step behind the conversation.

If Patty noticed this time, he didn't remark on it. "Well that's just it – somehow it's never occurred to any of them that the team had to already make a reservation days ago for a group this big."

"It's nice to let them think they get to have an opinion."

The more that Joe forced the words to come out of his mouth, the easier it got to fall back into the normal rhythm of their banter. It definitely didn't feel normal, words clunking clumsily around his mouth, brain stalled as he tried to reach for responses while he attempted not to stare at Patty's lips, but thankfully autopilot was starting to kick in just enough to save him.

He did his best to uphold his end of the conversation a little while later as they went to the lobby to meet the rest of the team. It was almost a relief when they reached the other guys because Patty had other people to focus on and Joe could finally stop worrying about getting caught staring at Patty's eyes or his lips or his hands and asking himself what went wrong. He let himself fade into the mix of the crowd, drifting over to Nabby and only half-listening as he tried to impart some sort of wisdom onto Gorges that was extremely sincere and mostly unintelligible. Patty was once again caught up in whatever drama the kids were creating for themselves, and for the first time since he'd come to San Jose, Joe was relieved to have some distance from Patty.

If any of his seatmates thought it was weird that he sat with them at dinner instead of towards the other end of the table, next to Patty where he'd usually be sitting, they didn't remark on it. And that was good, because Joe felt weird enough, somehow even more wrong-footed because he wasn't sure if he'd ever sat this far from Patty at a meal since he'd become a Shark. It was such a far cry from the warm closeness of their lunch just a few hours ago, but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe getting acclimated to a little bit of distance would be a healthy thing for them. It certainly couldn't hurt for him to spend more time with his other teammates.

That didn't stop him from sneaking glances down the table, of course. There was an empty seat next to Patty for the longest time as everyone got themselves situated, like everybody knew that spot was claimed so they didn't even try to sit there. It wasn't until the table had filled up that Scotty had finally sat there, and Joe pretended that nobody had looked towards him as if trying to figure out where he could be if not in his assigned seat.

Dinner was fine. The boys were all in good spirits from their day off and everyone felt confident in their chances against the Rangers tomorrow night, buzzing with the anticipation of a solid game. Joe ate mechanically and tried to stay engaged in some story Mike Grier was telling about the playoffs in Buffalo last season. It wasn't easy, but all of this adjustment was going to be a learning curve.

He survived dinner without incident, and the trip back to the hotel was much the same. If Patty thought it was weird that Joe hadn't sat with him, he didn't comment on it. He disappeared into the bathroom to get washed up for bed, and that was their normal routine – Patty always got first rights to the bathroom the night before a game, because he fell asleep more quickly than Joe and would often already be unconscious by the time Joe finished in the bathroom.

Joe sat on the edge of his bed, slowly pulling off his shoes. He didn't know what to make of this, Patty continuing to act like nothing had changed. Maybe he was acting like this _because_ he didn't want anything to change.

But Joe wanted things to change. He wanted things to change really, really badly, and he didn't know how to deal with the leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach, sick with disappointment and confusion.

He couldn't tell Patty – the last thing he wanted was to make Patty feel bad just because Joe had been presumptuous and had jumped to the wrong conclusions. He was the one who had fallen too deep, too fast, and it was his mess to clean up.

Some healthy distance was all they needed. He was sure they'd had that at some point in their relationship – they must have, right?

Even if, looking back at the past year together, he was fairly sure they had walked right into this connection, and they had grinned at each other like they were inevitable.

Or at least, Joe had thought that was what happened. Now, he wasn't sure if Patty would agree.

He didn't jump when Patty came out of the bathroom, but it was a near thing. Thankfully, Patty typically got dressed in the bathroom after washing up, and tonight was no exception.

Joe _didn't_ usually get dressed in the bathroom, but tonight was going to be an exception.

He grabbed his pajamas and made for the bathroom, having to double back when he realized that he'd forgotten a shirt. Another one of his exceptions for the evening.

Maybe those exceptions might have to be the new norm, if he was making Patty uncomfortable.

Joe didn't really need a shower, especially seeing as he'd taken that freezing shower after...well. After Patty walked out.

But the shower was a good distraction, and if Joe lingered long enough, Patty would hopefully be fast asleep by the time that Joe finished in the bathroom and then Joe wouldn't have to talk to him tonight.

It was difficult to imagine how in twenty-four hours he'd gone from wanting to spend every waking moment with Patty to actively trying to avoid him, but a broken heart would do that to you.

He turned the water up until it was a few degrees below outright scalding and just stood there, letting it beat against his back, between his shoulders, hot enough that the warmth felt like it was starting to emanate to the rest of his body. It was a relief, for a moment, and then he closed his eyes and thoughts of the afternoon came back to him – but not just the image of Patty as he walked away.

Patty's lips on his, soft and wet and warm. Patty pressed up against him, feeling the solid weight of him as he leaned into Joe's chest. The way his hand had gripped the back of Joe's head, putting Joe exactly where he wanted, surging up and taking control and leaving Joe helpless to do anything but follow his lead. That noise he'd made when he'd given up on decorum and taken what he wanted.

There was a new kind of warmth spreading through Joe, one that made him grimace in shame. His cock was starting to get hard again, when the last thing he needed to be doing was jerking off to his best friend who had rejected him – the same best friend who was sleeping in the next room, trying to pretend that Joe hadn't kissed him so that he could preserve their friendship.

Joe had never been one for trying to glare his dick into submission, but he gave it a shot now, because this was really an inopportune time to be feeling horny about the guy who broke his heart.

He had a mental flash of Patty's smile as he'd come back into the room, laughing about the rookies like everything was normal, and his dick twitched.

Fuck, he had it bad.

Joe turned the water off and staggered out of the shower, breathing hard and dripping all over the floor until he thought to grab his towel.

He had to get his shit together. He had to get over this, get it out of his system and move on, because it wasn't fair to do this to Patty. It wasn't fair to think about him like this when Joe knew he wouldn't want it.

But apparently not even the sting of despair was enough to combat the cycling memory of Patty's mouth against his own, because his dick remained half-hard and far too interested.

The last thing Joe wanted to do was ask for a new roommate, but that might be in order soon if Joe couldn't get a handle on his reactions. Patty would be hurt, probably, but that _would_ be the best way for Joe to get some distance between them. It didn't have to be forever – just until he got over his crush on his best friend.

Just until he got over being in love with his best friend.

He just had to learn to be objective again, detached. After he got that figured out, they'd be golden.

...yeah, he'd definitely have to ask for a new roommate.

He wasn't going to jerk off to his best friend who turned him down. That was a surefire way to turn Patty from rejecting him, but wanting to stay friends, to outright hating him. Being disgusted by him.

Joe tugged his underwear and sweatpants up over his hips and tried not to squirm when the fabric pressed up against his dick. If he laid down and didn't move and focused on his breathing like the trainers taught him, his body would settle down and he could go to sleep. That's what he should be focused on, after all – despite all of his inner turmoil, they had a game tomorrow.

His shirt was pulled on as an afterthought – he almost forgot it because he wasn't used to wearing one to bed, but there was a first time for everything.

The lights were off in the room when he left the bathroom, a sure sign that Patty had already settled in to sleep. He used to leave them on until Joe was done, but Patty couldn't sleep with the lights on, and so at some point last year Joe had told him to just turn it off and he'd find his way to his bed in the dark. He'd rather bump his shins on a few pieces of cheap furniture than make Patty stay up just because Joe liked to take long showers before bed sometimes.

Of course, Patty still worried for him, and so he'd taken to leaving the heavy hotel curtains open when they went to sleep. It allowed the orangey glow of the lights in the parking lot to light their room just enough for Joe to see where he was going, and as Patty insisted, "the natural sunlight in the morning will help us wake up."

It was a good thing they had similar views on appropriate times to go to bed and wake up, because some of their teammates would be liable to cut a guy who inflicted sunshine on them first thing in the morning.

Patty would have to talk that one over with his new roommate.

The thought brought Joe back to reality, and he grimaced as he made his way back to his bed. Patty's breathing was deep and even, the way it usually was when he slept, but Joe still did his best to keep his back to Patty as he climbed into bed, as if in the shadows of the room he'd somehow see the outline of Joe's dick and know that Joe had been thinking about their kiss that Patty hadn't enjoyed.

The hotel duvet felt heavy and stifling as he tucked it up around his shoulders, but Joe didn't dare lower it. He naturally ran pretty hot and usually didn't use more than a sheet when he slept, but the thought of Patty seeing him hard-

Well, fuck, that wasn't doing anything to fix the situation, because Joe's dick jumped in the confines of his clothing, apparently extremely interested in imagining Patty seeing him hard and straining against the fabric, knowing that it was for him, that this was how badly Joe wanted him, that he'd be hiding in his bed a few feet away like some kid in juniors, squirming against the sheets and trying not to gasp as he pressed the heel of his hand against the bulge of his dick, telling himself that it was just to take the edge off and knowing that he was only egging himself on-

Joe wrenched his hand away from his pants hard enough that it thumped when it hit the mattress. _Fuck_ , what was he thinking? Patty was already uncomfortable with him and so Joe was going to fucking get off to the thought of Patty seeing Joe making him uncomfortable?

Except, when he imagined it, Patty wasn't uncomfortable. He'd have those same intent blue eyes as he'd had before the kiss, watching Joe like a hungry tiger stalking his prey, licking his lips and smug in knowing that the hunt was won before it had even started. They'd make eye contact and Patty would raise his eyebrows as if to say _well, I'm waiting_ , and Joe would slide a hand down under his waistband, cupping himself but not moving his hand yet, not until he had Patty's full attention, not until Patty wanted him to.

His cock was hot in his hand, fully hard and undoubtedly flushed red. The band of his underwear pressed against the head in the worst kind of way, elastic rough and providing uncomfortable pressure.

That should have been good – Joe should have taken his hand out of his pants and turned on his side and pretended he didn't have a dick until he could fall asleep.

Except he knew that he wasn't going to sleep any time soon, not when half of him wanted to hump the bed like a kid and the other half wanted to get rid of his hard-on as fast as possible to keep Patty from seeing it.

He could get up and go to the bathroom, take care of it quickly there, but that risked standing up and waking Patty, having Patty see him.

Maybe he could just – if he was quiet, maybe he could make it quick. He knew he wouldn't last long, not when just the thought of Patty's hands on him and his tongue pressing forcefully against Joe's own had him squirming and rocking against his own palm.

He just had to get it out of his system, right? Get it over with and move on. Road trips were long and could get lonely; plenty of guys jerked off on the road.

Joe hadn't done it in a hotel room with his roommate asleep nearby since he was a literal kid but needs must, or whatever.

Closing his eyes and bracing himself for the most uncomfortable masturbation of his life, Joe shoved his pants and underwear down his thighs enough to get his dick free. The space under the blankets was hot and cloistered from his movements, but Joe couldn't risk shifting the duvet.

His hand immediately wrapped around his dick, already dripping enough precum that he wouldn't need anything else to ease the slide. Hopefully that meant that this would be fast, because every time Patty's breath altered even the slightest bit, Joe thought he was going to jump out of his skin.

He kept his grip tight, pulling fast and shallow on his dick in a way that would have been painful if he wasn't so turned on already. Each movement sent hot sparks through him, and the sound of it was lewdly slick. He cringed even as he had to keep himself from humping up into his hand.

It was dirty, and so fucking wrong, and it felt so good, and what if Patty saw, but also what if he _saw_ , and-

"If you're going to do that, you could at least let me watch."

Patty's sleep-roughened voice was a particular favorite of Joe's, especially when it was fond and a little growly, and Joe would have come on the spot if not for the bolt of terror that had his eyes shooting open and his full body recoiling away from Patty, like that could somehow defend him from the shame of being caught. God, Patty was going to be so disgusted with him, would think he was pathetic, would think-

But Joe could see him, propped up on his elbow in the dim orange glow from the parking lot, and there was a smile turning the edges of his lips upward, and his eyes were dark in the shadows, and dark with that same hungry feeling Joe had been fantasizing about.

The one that looked like he wanted to eat Joe alive.

"I-"

Joe's words failed him and he stuttered, licked at his lips and tried to search for an explanation that wasn't entirely shameful and mortifying.

"I'm s-"

"I didn't tell you to stop."

It was like every bit of blood that was responsible for helping Joe's brain produce meaningful thoughts and speech was diverted down to his dick, because Joe felt Patty's words like a jolt of electricity down his spine.

"You want-" To see it, to see _Joe_ , because he wasn't disgusted with Joe? He couldn't finish the thought, couldn't settle on what he wanted to say, but Patty seemed to pick up on enough of the meaning because he snorted quietly.

"If you're going to wake me up jerking off, you may as well make it worth my while and let me watch."

And fuck, he was an awful roommate for waking Patty up, but Patty was asking to _watch_ , and Joe couldn't rip the too-thick duvet off quickly enough.

His cock was standing nearly straight in the orange-hued shadows of their room, but Joe wasn't looking at it as he wrapped his hand around his cock again and began stroking with a renewed fervor. His gaze was only for Patty, Patty and his dark stare. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to, because Patty was watching with interest, with intent, was intent on _Joe_ , on Joe's body, on the evidence of what he'd done to Joe, and Joe fucked up into his fist once, twice, and he was gone, head tilting back and choking on a gasp, stifling an embarrassing moan at the last second.

His orgasm was a rush of warmth, finally snapping the tension he'd felt for hours now, and his eyes didn't break from Patty's the entire time.

Joe collapsed back against the bed, chest heaving, unable to tear his gaze away from Patty's. He'd have to clean himself up in a minute, but that was a problem for future-Joe. Right now he didn't want to move, lest he break this fantasy and come crashing back to the real world.

"Feel better?" Patty's voice was gently teasing, but Joe knew he didn't mean it to mock.

"I don't – I didn't think..."

 _I didn't think you wanted me_ , Joe couldn't bring himself to say, lest Patty somehow do another one-eighty and agree that he actually didn't want Joe and that this was all for fun.

He didn't know if Patty understood what he was trying to say, but Patty's voice wasn't unkind when he asked, "Do you think you can sleep now?"

Joe nodded, not trusting himself to try to speak again.

"Good," Patty said, and he gave Joe that little self-satisfied smirk and settled in against his pillows and closed his eyes, still facing Joe, and he was out like a light within seconds.

Joe laid there with cum drying on his hand for a long, long time, staring at that peacefully sleeping face and asking himself what the fuck had just happened.

Naturally, Patty didn't respond, but God, was he beautiful.

4.

Joe wasn't sure what he was expecting to happen the next morning, but he was hoping for...well, something.

They were up at their normally scheduled time, with Patty climbing out of bed looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Typically they were both morning people – their matching sleep-wake schedules was part of why they made for good roommates – but Joe had been up for a long time the night before, thoughts circling endlessly about what this all meant for them, Patty wanting to watch him jerk off in the context of Patty pushing him away. The two ideas seemed pretty mutually exclusive and Joe was having a hard time reconciling them.

He had to take another shower in the morning, because he'd done a perfunctory job wiping himself clean the night before but still felt a little gross (or maybe that was just his sense of shame talking). Patty didn't find it strange at all, just commented on something he saw on the local news when Joe came out of the bathroom.

They played the Rangers tonight, and the Islanders the next night, meaning they'd be in the same hotel for a few days. Joe wasn't sure how he felt about that, given all the memories he'd have of it from yesterday.

It all hinged on how today went. If Patty still wanted him in the light of day, this could be something good.

If Patty turned him down again...well, Joe might have to request a roommate change pretty soon.

Patty was mostly normal during breakfast, with a few minor exceptions. Joe usually went first when they got in line for breakfast, because Patty always took too long deliberating over his choices before picking the same damn thing every time; plus, Patty usually liked to take a look at what Joe had picked, and would then unerringly show up at their table and slide Joe the additional food that _Patty_ thought he should be eating.

Today when they approached the buffet line he put a warm hand on Joe's hip and gently shuffled Joe behind him in the line; Joe was so distracted by the touch that he didn't even remark on the oddity of Patty insisting on going first.

And then, as they went through the line, Patty would keep looking back over his shoulder to check on what Joe was getting, occasionally stopping Joe to add more eggs to Joe's plate, or insist that he get a bowl of the fruit salad.

"Shit, Pat, did he accidentally leave his mom at home?" Brownie chirped from behind Joe.

Patty smiled kindly and flipped Brownie off before handing Joe a cup of strawberry yogurt.

When they went to sit down, Patty made a point of calling Joe's name and nodding to a free table, as if to make sure that Joe wasn't going to wander off and sit somewhere else. Which, granted, the thought had passed through his mind after everything that went on the past twenty-four hours, but he wasn't going to admit to that.

But when they sat down, Patty just started buttering his whole wheat toast with that little self-satisfied look he always wore when he felt like he'd gotten his way, and Joe was so fucking smitten for it that he didn't think to wonder why Patty was feeling smug.

It was the same when they got on the bus to go to the rink for practice, with Patty insisting on going first, only to stop in the middle of the aisle and hustle Joe into the window seat midway back, their usual seating arrangement. Everything they did, Patty made sure that he went first, but was always checking over his shoulder like Joe was going to disappear if Patty didn't have eyes on him for one second.

Perhaps it was bizarre, but after the day he'd had and how confused he felt, it was just nice to feel wanted.

Maybe Patty had just felt shy yesterday afternoon? It wasn't like him to be shy about, well, anything, but he'd been a little coy about kissing when Joe had first brought it up. Maybe he'd been nervous but was still interested?

Joe couldn't help to lean into that theory when he saw Patty pretty blatantly eyeing him when they got changed for practice. He'd grinned and waggled his eyebrows at Patty; Patty was unabashed and didn't look away for a long, long moment.

"You guys are eyefucking more than usual," Cheechoo snarked, bumping into Joe during practice, but there was no malice in his voice.

Joe casually cross-checked him all the same. "Shut up, we're in love."

Well. At least he hoped they were.

Patty was still staring at them from across the ice, eyes narrowed like he was trying to suss out what was going on, and Joe admittedly preened under the attention.

Yeah, he had it bad for Patty, but that was okay if Patty had it even a little bit for him.

Morning skate was uneventful in a way that perhaps Joe needed, comfortable familiarity and routine in the face of so much uncertainty. Their passes were still no-look and tape-to-tape and at least in this, Joe knew they were still on the same page.

It was when they got back to the hotel that Joe got a little nervous. Typically, after morning skate and team meetings, they'd eat lunch catered by the team and then return to their room for a nap until it was time to prep for the game.

The lunch part was normal – with the exception of Patty actually picking out Joe's chair for him, calling his name and nodding meaningfully at it to make sure Joe couldn't miss his new assigned seat next to Patty – but the pregame nap was where things kind of went off the rails.

Patty was changing clothes, pulling on the t-shirt and sweatpants he usually wore to bed, when he said, "So, do you think you'll be able to sleep this time?"

His voice was teasing – Joe could tell he was smiling even though Patty was facing away from him as he pulled his shirt over his head, back muscles flexing with the motion – and Joe froze.

He had a choice here: he could let the shame and guilt of last night make him brush things off and act like everything was normal, or he could try his luck.

The last twenty-four hours notwithstanding, Joe always had been a bit of a gambler when it came to getting what he wanted.

So when Patty turned back around after he finished getting changed, it was to the sight of Joe splayed across his own bed in nothing but his underwear, having foregone the clothes he wore to bed last night. That in and of itself wasn't too odd seeing as Joe's general state of being was "nearly nude," but perhaps he was laying it on a bit thick when he propped himself up on his elbow so that he could grin widely at Patty when Patty turned around.

"I don't know, how about you come over here and help me?"

To his credit, Patty didn't even break a stride, though his gaze did linger on Joe's bare chest longer than was appropriate for just buddies.

"No, I don't think so."

He sat down on the edge of his own bed and started setting the hotel alarm clock as if his best friend hadn't just propositioned him again.

And then, easy as you please, Patty said, "But if it will help, I'll tell you what to do."

He said it like it was a reasonable offer, to ask your buddy if he wanted you to talk him through jerking off. He said it like it wasn't making Joe's mouth go dry and his palms go sweaty, like his heartbeat hadn't just kicked up a notch and his dick twitched visibly in his boxers.

Patty smirked, clearly not having missed that, and the hand Joe had loosely curled against his abdomen clenched involuntarily.

"I'd take that as a yes," Patty said, and Joe would fucking swear that his voice lowered as he did. Patty settled himself back against his headboard and looked over at Joe, eyes raking over him hot like a touch Joe could physically feel.

Joe could have questioned it – should have, really, when the tables had been turned on him so abruptly once again – but he was far too afraid that speaking now was going to shatter the moment, was going to make Patty realize how ridiculous this whole situation was and wash his hands of Joe again.

He licked his lips, and felt warmth bloom across his chest as Patty's eyes followed the movement.

"I want you to touch yourself," Patty said, and Joe's dick had never gone so hard so fast in his life. His hand shot to the waistband of his underwear when Patty made a noise of protest.

"No, don't touch your cock yet." His voice was so affably casual in the way it wrapped around the lewd words, and Joe wanted to scream and revel in it forever. "Foreplay exists for a reason, Joe, even for masturbation. I want you to show me what you do to make yourself feel good."

It took Joe a few seconds to put together what that was even supposed to mean, because he was pretty sure that touching his dick _was_ the way he was supposed to feel good. That was like, how masturbation _worked_.

Maybe it showed on his face, because Patty kind of chuckled to himself and shook his head. "Christ, of course you're like this. Okay, show me how you feel when you touch your nipples."

How Joe felt was like his brain was going to explode when thinking about Patty discussing his nipples. Touching his nipples had never felt like much – he'd had a girlfriend who loved touching them, and it had turned him on more that it turned her on than it had actually done anything for him – but it was different when Patty's eyes were on him. With Patty's eyes burning into him like a brand, each tiny brush of nails over his nipples sent a shock to his dick.

"Can you pinch them for me?" Patty said, and Joe's hips rocked against the air, squirming, searching for any sort of friction he could get and finding none.

Patty tsked, and when Joe shot him a glare, a hearty "fuck off" on his tongue, he only smiled. "Impatient. Okay, we'll compromise. One hand on your nipples, one on the edge of your boxers."

Joe was barely able to comprehend the words but he tried to comply all the same. This was possibly the most erotic experience of his life and nothing was fucking _happening_. He didn't normally touch himself like this because it was boring, because it felt like nothing, because his own hands on himself anywhere other than his dick were meaningless to his brain.

But this, following Patty's demands – his _orders_ – while he watched, waiting to see Patty's expression to know if he'd done right, seeing Patty's eyes avid on him and knowing that he had Patty's full and absolute attention – _that_ was hot. That was the hottest fucking thing Joe had ever experienced, and it had him rushing to do what Patty wanted.

His fingers dipped under his waistband and Patty tutted again. "Not any further, we're taking our time."

Joe groaned and dropped his head back against the pillows. "Pat, come on."

Patty's face lit with glee, and Joe realized that he'd given Patty exactly what he'd wanted. And fuck, even if he was playing into his hands, he'd gladly do it again.

"We're taking our time. I want you to enjoy this."

"Well then fucking come over here and help me, eh?"

Patty pretended to think about it, and Joe knew the answer before he even said anything. "No, not today. I want to see you get yourself off first."

"Well then _let me-_ "

"I'm not stopping you," Patty interrupted calmly. "You don't have to listen to me. You could tell me to fuck off right now and do whatever you want."

They both knew that wasn't going to happen. Joe cared about Patty more than getting off, cared about their relationship – this whatever-this-was, it meant more to him than a few seconds of pleasure, even if Patty was being really fucking frustrating about it.

And Patty knew that. And he knew what he was doing when he said, "Do you want me to leave?"

That was the last fucking thing Joe wanted. "You know I don't."

"Do I? You're being awfully grumpy about this. If you don't want me to leave, then what do you want?"

Joe closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to search for the patience they both knew he didn't really have.

"Pat," he begged in a strangled voice.

Patty hummed. "Hmm, no, I think I need to hear the words. What do you want me to do, Joe?"

It was then Joe remembered what he'd always loved about Patty: underneath his wholesome Good Canadian Boy Mr. Shark appearances, he was fucking devious.

And he _loved_ getting his way.

Biting back his pride, Joe rasped, "I want you to tell me how to get off."

Patty's smile lit up the room, and Joe's stomach swooped. God, he was so fucking gone.

"Then let me help you and stop complaining. I want to watch you tease yourself."

"Is this not fucking teasing enough?" Joe grumbled, but at Patty's warning look he shut up.

He imagined Patty's hands on him like this, warm and capable. Patty rubbing the callused pad of his thumb over the bud of Joe's nipple, Patty's hands spanning Joe's waist like they had that morning in the buffet line, only this time with the fingertips dipping under Joe's waistband, nails dragging through the coarse hair of his abdomen.

"Just like that," Patty murmured, almost to himself, and Joe imagined the words pressed hot and wet against his ear, Patty's voice rumbling against him, and when he pinched his nipple again he gasped. Fuck, yeah, that was doing it for him.

His dick was obscene in his underwear, straining and leaving a damp patch in the cotton, and he was so hard that it was even a relief to hear Patty say, "Okay, you can touch yourself, but over the boxers."

Joe gripped a hand over his dick and it was immediately overwhelming, going from teasing stimulation that was nowhere near where he needed it to damp fabric being squeezed against his dick, the pressure and friction he wanted but not the right way.

He grunted, squirming against the touch, pressed his thumb hard against the head of his dick.

"Careful," Patty cautioned, "That's not how I would touch you."

Joe had to bite back another quip that if it mattered so much, Patty should come get him off then. He gentled his touch until he was simply cradling his clothed dick in his hand, and it wasn't enough, but Patty licked at his lips and that was more than fucking worth it.

He tried to jerk himself off like that, moving his hand slowly over his cock, pressed the heel of his palm against it. He could probably come like this, but it wouldn't be the greatest feeling.

Watching Patty watch him, though. That could do it.

"You can take the boxers off," Patty said abruptly, almost like an afterthought, and Joe had never moved more quickly in his life. He was still kicking the boxers off of his ankle when he got his hand back on his dick, glistening and painfully red.

And then he checked himself, froze with his hand on his aching dick and looked at Patty, beseeching, pleading for any instruction that would allow him to get off.

And Patty smiled at him like he was proud and said, "You can get yourself off now."

Joe had thought he was embarrassingly fast about it last night, but that was nothing compared to how he felt now in the light of day, Patty's eyes intent on him as he jacked his dick maybe a bit too fast, thumb catching the head each time.

Maintaining eye contact, he reached down with his other hand and tugged at his balls and that was it. He came all over his hand and stomach, mouth hanging open on a moan and his eyes pinned wide on Patty's.

And Patty, that beautiful goddamn bastard, had the gall to smile at Joe and say, "Good boy."

Joe's cock kicked one more time in his hand, another spurt landing in the mess on his stomach.

Apparently he was into that.

He laid there, chest heaving, coming down from an orgasm that was unbelievably intense for how little actually _happened_ , and Patty reached across the gap between their beds to offer Joe the box of tissues on the nightstand.

"You should clean up before we go to sleep," he said, smiling like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

"How are you so calm right now?" Joe gasped; he grimaced and swallowed, trying to catch his breath. When he glanced, Patty didn't even look hard in his sweats.

He knew Patty wouldn't answer him, but it still bothered him a little bit when Patty ever-so-casually said, "Let me go get you a washcloth."

And he did, returning with a damp washcloth for Joe to clean himself up with. By the time Joe rediscovered the use of his legs and used them to toss the washcloth in the bathroom and swap his soiled boxers for new ones, Patty was already tucked up in bed and unconscious.

Joe stood in the doorway of the bathroom and stared at him for a long moment.

"What the fuck is even happening?" he whispered plaintively.

And just like last night, Patty didn't answer.

5.

Whatever was or wasn't going on between them, it wasn't affecting their game. That was about the only positive that Joe could take from the situation thus far, other than Patty taking some sort of purely academic interest in his cock.

When they woke up from their naps, they fell into their pregame routines with a relieving amount of normalcy. The game against the Rangers was chippy, but Patty scored two goals and Joe assisted on both of them.

The dumbest part of Joe's brain pointed out how Patty had given him the assist before their naps today, and now Joe was returning the favor. It was the sort of comment that Joe would usually share with Patty, if he wasn't so afraid that reminding Patty of what had happened would scare Patty away again.

Maybe he was coming on too strong. That was a hard thought to consider, seeing as "coming on too strong" was pretty much Joe's entire personality, and usually Patty had seemed to like that. He always laughed at Joe's bad jokes and eyebrow wiggles, or rolled his eyes and pretended he wasn't smiling. He had no qualms about assigning random tasks to Joe if he thought that Joe needed focus, or a way to burn off excess energy. Patty was the only person who'd never found Joe overwhelming, never balked at his many and varied charms.

Until now, anyway. Until Joe started trying to flirt with him for real and changed the dynamic of their relationship, and Patty seemed to still be trying to decide if he wanted Joe like that at all.

Well, maybe it was time for Joe to take things a bit slower. He could do slow. He could let Patty take his time.

He wouldn't proposition Patty again, he would just make himself...available.

If Joe sprawled out on his bed that night after the game, legs spread and entirely nude, it was just because he felt comfortable that way.

("You'll be cold if you don't put a sheet on," Patty said, not paying Joe the tiniest bit of mind as he climbed into his own bed.)

If Joe left the door wide open when he showered the next morning, it was only to let the steam escape and not because he was trying to entice Patty to join him.

("Don't take too long or I'm going to breakfast without you," Patty called through the open door, not even bothering to enter the bathroom.)

If Joe pressed his thigh against Patty's on the bus to the rink, and draped himself over Patty's back during practice, and told Patty that he'd love to see more of what he could do with his stick, it was only because he really loved the guy and liked to spend time with him.

("You should be paying attention to how I play," Patty agreed with an arched brow and only the faintest hint of a smile, "I'm the one of us that's scoring goals.")

That was all to say, Joe couldn't possibly drop any more hints if he wrote Patty a personal invitation with a hand-drawn map to his dick, and Patty did not seem to be picking up what he was putting down. Patty was a pretty perceptive guy – you didn't get chosen as team captain for being a dumbass – and if he wasn't responding to Joe, it probably meant that he didn't want to.

Whatever they'd had, he wasn't interested in it, and Joe had to be okay with that. He didn't have another option, not when their friendship was at stake.

He'd lick his wounds in private once they finally got home, but in the meantime, he had to put on a good front and act like everything was normal first.

Luckily for Joe, his version of normal still contained a good deal of casual nudity, so he didn't have to make any major life changes.

If Patty noticed that Joe now splayed himself across his hotel bed in his boxers instead of entirely naked, he didn't comment on it.

Joe was a healthy twenty-seven year old man with a possibly higher than average sexual appetite, and it was not at all unusual for him to get off in the hotel shower on their road trips. (There was a reason Patty thought he took too long in there, after all.) He'd deviated from that a little bit, with this whole... _thing_ about trying to get off where Patty could see, but right now the idea of jerking off a few feet away from Patty was making his stomach swoop in a bad way.

If Patty wasn't interested, it quickly stopped being hot and started feeling skeezy and shameful and all of those other things he'd felt that first time that he'd realized Patty was watching. And Joe wasn't really interested in reliving that particular incident.

The guilt he felt stopped him from getting too randy in front of Patty, thankfully. And if Patty noticed that he was suddenly seeing less of Joe's dick and ass, he didn't want to remark on it.

He was probably thankful for it.

And so their trip carried on mostly as it usually would, continuing their tour of the east coast with a decidedly unsexy loss in Boston and a 2-1 win in Ottawa. They were set to play a game against the Habs tomorrow afternoon before finally heading back to San Jose, and Joe couldn't wait. It was surely a sign of how old he was getting, that he could feel the weight of every day they were on the road as it settled into his bones. A few days at home to rest and recuperate and avoid Patty were exactly what Joe needed.

He just needed to get through one more night in a hotel room.

It was not Joe's intent to start anything. If asked, he'd probably say that he was pretty sure he _didn't_ start anything. He was lounging on his bed in their shared room, topless, but wearing boxers and flannel pants because it actually was kind of chilly even with their heater running. He was squinting at his Game Boy, tilting it towards the lamp between their beds so that the screen caught the light better. They made ones with backlit screens now, all the kids liked to tease him, but there was something to be said for the classics.

There was a rustling sound as Patty turned the page in his book, and Joe paid him no mind. His tongue slipped out between his teeth as he frowned in concentration, tilting his screen again like that would make the Tetris blocks line up better. But all too soon the falling blocks started to pile up, and Joe couldn't fit them together fast enough to erase the layers. He huffed in frustration as the GAME OVER screen flashed repeatedly, and the huff turned into a jaw-cracking yawn. Joe idly slipped a hand down to scratch at his stomach, nails scritching through the thick hair trailing down his abs. It was a thoughtless act, letting his hand slide under his waistband to continue scratching above his dick. The sort of thing that they'd all seen someone do in a locker room too many times to count, and therefore not something Joe was thinking of as overtly sexual.

But then he heard the flutter of pages again, perhaps a little more abrupt, a little more violent, and the noise made Joe turn his head to glance at Patty.

And Patty was staring back at him.

"By all means, don't stop on my account," Patty said, and for once in his life Joe was actually a bit embarrassed when he realized what Patty was talking about.

"I'm not-" He snatched his hand out of his pants as if burned, and was hard-pressed not to somehow hide his hand as if he could shield the incriminating evidence...of what, really? His dry skin and general sense of impropriety brought on by growing up in a dressing room of twenty other slobs?

But Patty's lips were curled with a hint of a teasing smile, and it killed some sappier part of Joe's brain that he couldn't tell if the teasing was friendly or mocking. He'd never questioned himself around Patty before, but then, prior to this trip Patty had never commented on Joe scratching around his dick in front of him.

"You're that desperate for it, eh?"

Joe was sure his face was on fire, that he was perhaps spontaneously combusting on the spot. The worst of it was that Patty's voice was so self-assured, so smug, and it was still somehow doing it for Joe. His dick twitched in interest, like it was enjoying these proceedings and considering if it wanted to get involved, and Joe sincerely considered the values of fleeing the hotel and going to sleep on a park bench, or bury himself in a snowbank. Whichever was more immediately available.

"I wasn't trying to..." He couldn't get the words out, couldn't explain that he wasn't actually trying to touch himself in front of Patty again, not when his cock was starting to firm up a little under Patty's watchful gaze.

He didn't know what this was, what Patty wanted from him, but he knew that he wanted Patty's attention, and apparently he was desperate enough to take it any way he could get it, even by accident.

"I never thought I'd see you shy." This time, he knew that Patty's smile was friendly, made in jest, and it made some of the tension leak out of his shoulders. Flirting – this he could handle.

"I think I have to be," he said, mustering up a cocksure grin that he wasn't quite feeling. "This guy keeps talking about my dick, but he won't even get close enough to touch it. It's enough to make any guy think he should cover up."

It came out a little more pointed than he'd intended, and he knew it had hit home when Patty's expression dimmed, closed in a little. But he didn't look away, didn't pick up his book again or roll over and go to sleep or change the subject.

His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, a tantalizing flash of pink that did not do Joe any favors when he was already running a little hot, and his eyes burned into Joe's like he could peer into his soul.

When he spoke, Patty's voice was low, rough, and it rumbled through Joe like the thunder of an oncoming storm that Joe would gladly be swept up in.

"Do you want me to touch it? Do you think that would be enough for you to finally settle down?"

In the dressing room, Joe was known as a pretty talkative guy, a leader, someone who always had the right words to say for any situation.

All of those pretty words fled him in that moment, and it must have shown on his face, because Patty looked positively thrilled.

Casual as can be, he marked his place in his book and set it aside on the nightstand. The reading glasses that he was far too young to need were placed carefully atop the book.

And then Patty was slipping out from under his own covers and climbing on top of Joe's. For a moment he was straddling Joe, one knee on either side of his hips, and Joe's dick almost sprung out of his pants at the thought that Patty might just stay like this, might just lower himself down on top of Joe, grind their dicks together while pressing Joe back into the mattress under his deliciously firm weight.

But then Patty rolled over Joe, plopped himself down with a bounce on Joe's other side, looking far too pleased with himself for a man who could have just walked around to that side of the bed or asked Joe to move over.

Joe was about to make a quip about it, try to regain some equal ground between them, when Patty's big, warm palm landed heavily on his bare abs.

"You'd think that with all of your _experience_ , you wouldn't need help with this." Patty's eyes were sparkling with the same impish light as his half-smirk, and Joe wondered if Patty could feel it under his palm, how his heart was beating out of his chest, his blood rushing fast and close to his skin. He was sure that he was turning red, that he'd stopped breathing, that perhaps he'd stopped existing, because Patty's hand was callused and wide over his stomach, and Joe thought he'd be able to see the brand of its heat on his skin for days afterward.

His fingers twisted uselessly in the sheets under him, afraid to reach out and touch, afraid that if he moved he'd break the moment and he'd wake up or Patty would leave or-

Patty took his hand off of Joe, only to reach over him, pluck the Game Boy off the bed next to him, and set it on the nightstand. Then his hand was back on Joe, resting over his sternum this time, thumb nearly brushing one of his nipples, and he was propped up on his other elbow but leaning his weight on Joe, smiling down at him with so much fondness, and maybe Joe would get to kiss him again this time.

"Nothing to say?"

Joe wasn't sure he'd ever remember the English language again, not when his dick was rock hard in his pants and his stomach was twisting with anticipation and nerves and his heart was thudding a refrain of _please, please, please._

_Please let me have this._

_Please let me keep this._

_Please let me love him._

He licked at dry lips, fisted his hands in the sheets until his knuckles ached with the need to touch Patty, and searched for all the words that had fled his brain.

"I just want you," he croaked, too simple and too honest at the same time.

But when Patty smiled, Joe thought that maybe there was love in his eyes too.

Maybe they really did want the same thing.

And then Joe stopped thinking much at all, because Patty leaned in with that hand weighing heavy on Joe's chest and he kissed Joe.

It was exactly like their first kiss and completely new. Patty was in complete control, pressing Joe back into the pillows as he licked into his mouth, movements hungry and sure. His hand blazed a trail of warmth up Joe's chest, his neck, until his fingers were cupping Joe's jaw, moving Joe exactly where he wanted him.

Joe sighed into the kiss, a sob of relief more than anything, and Patty swallowed that down too.

Unthinking, Joe's hand came up to rest on Patty's side, slide up to his shoulder, and he froze when he realized he could feel firm muscle under his fingers, that he was touching Patty without permission, and he expected the moment to shatter then, for Patty to pull away like he had before-

But Patty didn't slow down for even a moment, dotting kisses from the corner of Joe's mouth down to his jaw, nipping at the knob of bone and making Joe's hips shift restlessly.

"Needy," he chided fondly, voice hot and loud and so close against Joe's ear, and Joe thought that he would gladly beg on his knees for this man, for anything Patty was willing to give him.

"Pat," Joe whined, not caring that his voice sounded breathless and broken and pathetic when Patty's eyes were liquid and dark above him.

And then that self-satisfied little smile curled his lips, and Patty ducked down to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. "Shh, I've got you, sweetheart."

It was the first time that Joe's heart actually seized up over a pet name, and already he ached to his bones with the desire to hear it again.

And he couldn't even properly reflect on that, because Patty's hand was then dragging down Joe's chest, pads of his fingers brushing briefly over his nipples as it went, following the trail of hair to the top of Joe's pants.

Patty looked at him for a brief moment, assessing, and he must have approved of what he saw, because he kissed Joe again, soft and gentle until it wasn't, and his hand slid under Joe's pants and boxers to cup his dick, and Joe could have happily died on the spot.

The sound he made was embarrassingly close to a whimper, but Patty seemed to like it. He smirked against Joe's gasping mouth and gently circled his fingers around Joe's cock, not nearly enough pressure but already so much, when Joe could feel the rough texture of his calluses, the heat of his capable fingers, the weight of the knowledge that it was Patty touching him.

"Please," he gasped, using all of his willpower not to buck up into Patty's hand, not to do anything that might startle him or make him back off again.

Patty's eyes were so warm.

"Hush," he whispered, kissing Joe's cheek. "I'm getting there."

He brushed his thumb over the head of Joe's dick, smearing precum and using it to ease the slide of his rough fingers. He jacked Joe off slowly, leisurely, like he wasn't driving Joe insane with each pass of his hand.

Joe had done plenty more explicit, lewd, and adventurous sex acts in the past than a slow handjob with his pants still on, but this was easily the most passionate, the most _meaningful_. Each touch meant so much more because it was _Patty_ , because Joe's dick and his heart were on the same page and he wanted to revel forever in the sheer intimacy of getting to be this close to Patty, this special.

He let his hands slide up Patty's arms, over his shoulders and back, and Patty didn't flinch or move away, didn't seem bothered in the least. He kept jerking Joe off, kept kissing him deeply only to pull away and kiss across his cheek to his ear so he could whisper beautiful, filthy praise, "That's it, you need it so badly, don't you? Let me take care of you, I've got you, you're so good for me."

It wasn't even what Joe was usually in to, but he lived and died by those words, by how Patty's voice got fervent and low, sinfully dark, like this did something for him too. Like he wanted Joe as much as Joe wanted him.

Joe could have lived in that moment forever, but he was too turned on, feeling like he was about to explode out of his skin with each brush of Patty's hand against him. He could feel his orgasm building rapidly and he couldn't stop himself from bucking up into Patty's grip.

" _Pat_ ," he gasped into Patty's mouth, and Patty huffed and smirked and kissed the corner of his lips.

"You can come," he murmured, sounding amused, and Joe couldn't even feel condescended to because he was thrusting up into Patty's hand, only making it twice before his hips stuttered and he came with a grunt all over Patty's hand. Patty continued pressing kisses to his face as he caught his breath.

"Feel better?" He pulled his hand from Joe's pants and made a little face at the mess on it, but he didn't complain.

Joe could feel his boxers sticking to his dick without Patty's hand there to separate them, and he would be making the same face if he wasn't too busy trying to cobble his brain back into his skull.

He turned and looked at Patty, unable to fight the breathless smile slowly blooming across his face. "God, I love you."

Those weren't the words he meant to say. They felt right – they _were_ right – but he wasn't supposed to say it. It was too fast, too soon – they weren't even properly dating yet, hadn't hammered out this whatever-it-was between them, but Joe knew it was true. This is what they'd been building towards for the past year, since he'd come to the Sharks and they'd met eyes across the ice and just _clicked_.

Joe loved Patty, and he was pretty sure Patty loved him too.

He surged forward and kissed Patty before he could say anything, and Patty made a little noise of surprise, but he didn't push Joe away, and that had to mean something. He kissed Joe back, slid their tongues together, and that had to mean something.

Joe ran his hand down Patty's abs to his groin, and cupped his dick, and it was – soft.

That had to mean something.

And Patty made a noise of protest and rolled away from Joe, _shoved_ his hand away, and that definitely meant something.

He stared wide-eyed at Patty, and Patty stared back. The silence between them was damning, utterly devoid of the bubbly warmth of a moment ago.

"Patty," Joe croaked, and he didn't know where that was going – a question, an apology, a plea, a broken heart – but he didn't get to finish the thought anyways.

Patty grimaced and climbed off of the bed. "We'll talk later," he said softly, and then he went into the bathroom and closed the door.

Joe stared at the ceiling until he could tell himself that his eyes were burning from the air and not because he was crying, not because he'd just destroyed the best relationship he'd ever had. Patty didn't say he loved him back. He didn't want Joe touching him because he wasn't even turned on – he wasn't even interested in Joe.

It had felt like – _he_ approached _Joe_ , and he looked at him like – like it had to mean something, because why would he offer if he didn't want it?

But he very clearly did not want it, was absolutely not interested, and Joe had been, what, so pathetic that Patty had to take pity on him and jerk him off so that he'd stop being so horny? That is what Patty had said, right, that Joe was desperate for it, that he should have been able to do this on his own because it's not like he'd never masturbated before?

Maybe it was some sort of, of fucked up _favor_ for a buddy or something because Patty definitely wasn't interested in Joe touching him, and he didn't say he loved Joe back.

Suddenly he had to move, he had to _go_ , but it was the middle of the fucking night and they were in a hotel in fucking Montreal and they were _roommates_ , where could he go? Patty had already taken the only escape route, the bathroom, and he'd have to leave it eventually and they'd have to face each other and Joe was shirtless with fucking jizz in his pants, where was he supposed to go?

But he just knew that he couldn't take it, couldn't stand to see Patty's expression when he came out of the bathroom and told Joe that he didn't want him like that, that he wasn't interested – Joe didn't need to see it because he could already perfectly picture what it would look like. They didn't need to have that conversation.

Heart racing with something far from arousal, he stumbled out of bed, shoved his feet into his flip-flops and fumbled in his bag for the first thing that felt like a shirt. He pulled it over his head, grabbed his keycard, and he was out the door.

There was a public restroom on their floor near the ice machine, and it was thankfully empty at this time of night. He spent a while doing his best to clean himself up – he'd have to change his clothes, but he certainly wasn't doing that until Patty was unconscious or out of the room. And when he'd done what he could, scrubbed his dick and his hands until both were uncomfortably red, he just stood there braced against the sink, staring as the water swirled around the drain, and thought about all the things he'd destroyed tonight, all the things he'd loved that were now lost to him.

Because there was no way that their friendship could continue after this. Joe had taken it too far, eons past "just buddies," and Patty had clearly been uncomfortable with it.

And Joe – he had to own that. He had to let Patty go. That was his penance, for pushing this on Patty, for dragging him into something he didn't want.

Tomorrow night, they'd take a red-eye flight home to San Jose, and Joe could spend a whole day at home bracing himself for his new, Patrick Marleau-less life.

But right now, he had to go back into that shared hotel room and find some way to play hockey together tomorrow.

Joe had never been so terrified of entering a hotel room.

The lights were off when he walked in, and Joe closed the door carefully behind him. He paused for a moment, listening, and there was no rustle of movement, no greeting.

Patty was probably in bed then, and if he wasn't sleeping, he definitely wasn't going to spring out of bed and have that conversation with Joe that he'd promised (the conversation Joe planned to avoid until they retired).

That was all for the best, because Joe couldn't imagine speaking to him right now either.

He bumped into multiple pieces of furniture as he stumbled to his suitcase, because the curtains were drawn tight. Joe pretended that the image didn't dig another wound in his already bruised heart as he fumbled around for a clean set of pants and underwear, taking them with him to the bathroom and closing the door firmly behind him.

Joe was a borderline exhibitionist, but he couldn't begin to fathom how he was going to take his clothes off in front of Patty in the locker room tomorrow.

He should probably start packing more shirts.

+1.

They lost the game in Montreal 4-1. Joe wasn't surprised; he was a minus one for the night, and their only goal was from Pavs, when Joe hadn't been on the ice. Patty assisted on the goal, because not even being borderline violated by his best friend could throw Patty off his game, but Joe was a wreck.

Joe had barely slept, waking up with a pounding heart and shirt stuck to his shoulders with sweat every hour or two. He'd tried to fall asleep a few times before he gave up around five in the morning and went to take a shower. He was downstairs in time for breakfast when the hotel staff was just bringing out the first dishes for the buffet, and he stared at his too-hot coffee as they worked around him, unwilling to make eye contact with anybody.

He didn't get up until some of the guys started to trickle into the breakfast room, Patty amongst them, and then Joe was up and heading for the elevator so he could pack up his things in the room. They spent the whole day like that, this bizarre cat-and-mouse where Joe did his damnedest to only enter a space as Patty was leaving it, making sure they wouldn't have to see each other. He was one of the first onto the bus and he made Pickles sit next to him citing some veteran-rookie bonding bullshit that the kid definitely was not buying, but it got an ass in the seat next to him, conveniently at the front of the bus so that Joe could be the first to fling himself off it when they got to the rink.

Throughout all of this, Patty never said a thing. Granted, Joe didn't give him much opportunity, but Patty never gave him an odd look or sought him out in the dressing room. He must have known what Joe was doing, but clearly he wasn't bothered by it. Hell, he probably appreciated it.

Joe wouldn't want to be near himself either, if he were Patty.

They always sat together on planes, though. Joe didn't think he'd ever sat beside somebody else, in his entire career as a Shark.

But when he plopped himself down next to Nabby, nobody said anything. He got a few weird looks, but none of them were from Patty. If Patty noticed that Joe wasn't coming to share a row with him, he didn't comment on it.

Maybe he was grateful.

Joe didn't sleep on the flight, just like he hadn't slept last night, but at this point he thought that sleep might just elude him for the rest of his life, and he best get used to it.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Patty shoving away from him.

He didn't imagine that image would be going away any time soon.

When they got back to San Jose, Joe went home, stepped into his shower, turned the heat up as high as he could stand it, and made himself stay there until his skin was flushed red and warm and a little painful.

He was going to be a better person. He was going to give Patty his space. He was going to let them both move on, even if it meant moving apart.

Joe pulled it off, for a while. Coach was trying out different lines after the disaster in Montreal, and Joe and Patty weren't often together on the ice. They were on a home stand, meaning Joe could avoid things like buses and planes and team meals and godforsaken hotel rooms. He left as soon as he possibly could after practice, to avoid any talk of going out for lunch with teammates. He pulled a shirt on as soon he was dried off from his shower, and kept his showers with the team as fast as possible. A few of the guys had teased him about the change of pace, made cracks about Joe having to protect himself from those cold San Jose December nights, and Joe took it all easily, because it was better than having them suspect any alternative.

He caught Patty looking at him, sometimes, but when their eyes met Joe looked away immediately and, when possible, left the room. It wasn't good, but it could have been worse.

Patty notably had not approached him to have that talk. Joe imagined that Patty was just as uncomfortable with this situation as he was. They were best off letting things fizzle out naturally on their own, feelings dulled by the distance and heartache until they cooled into something more manageable.

Then, maybe they could be friends again, if Patty could ever forgive Joe.

If Joe could ever forgive himself.

It lasted for almost ten days, until their next road trip, a quick two-game jaunt to Columbus and Detroit. Joe and Patty hadn't really spoken at all since that night in the hotel room, and Joe figured that at last, they were truly on the same page.

Right up until he was searching for a seat on the plane and Patty's voice called out, "Joe."

When Joe slowly turned to look at him, Patty was watching him with kind eyes, but there was a sort of steel in his gentle voice as he nodded at the seat next to him.

Joe would have rather sat on the wing of the plane at that point, but he didn't get a chance to stutter an excuse about why he needed a different seat, because Scotty bumped up behind him, grousing, "Jesus Christ, Jumbo, sit your ass down already, will ya?"

And Joe didn't want to sit his ass down – he really, _really_ didn't – but he didn't have much choice, with a line of teammates behind him watching his every move and Patty staring him down from just a foot away.

Doing perhaps an offensively poor job at hiding his grimace, Joe gingerly settled himself into the seat next to Patty.

Usually when they sat together, it was comfortable, familiar. They'd let their knees and thighs touch, weren't bothered about their arms pressing together to share an armrest. They'd fallen asleep using each other's shoulders as pillows too many times to count.

Joe and Patty weren't uncomfortable with being seatmates because they weren't uncomfortable with touching each other.

Well. They didn't used to be.

When Joe sat down, he was extremely conscious of pressing himself as close to the aisle as he could manage without sticking his legs out and tripping his teammates as they went to their own seats. He could maintain a few inches between him and Patty if he sat like this, armrest digging painfully into his side, for the rest of the plane ride to Columbus.

He'd never been so acutely aware of how much their legs must have normally touched on the plane, because his leg felt bizarrely cold now.

Apparently he'd spent an abnormal amount of time staring down at their laps, because he just about jumped out of his skin when Patty's hand clasped his forearm.

"Hey, you okay?"

Joe didn't want to look at Patty, but it was instinctual, unavoidable. His gaze flicked up just for a moment, just to assess Patty's reaction, but he didn't know what to make of it. Patty was staring at him with those big, concerned eyes, like he was genuinely wondering what was going on with Joe. Like he didn't understand why Joe was focusing so heavily on keeping them apart.

Maybe Patty was a really good actor, or maybe he was really dedicated to saving their friendship, but Joe didn't think he was there yet. He'd need a cleaner break, a much more blatant and prolonged separation, before he could go back to snuggling up to Patty on the plane like he wasn't overwhelmed with an all-consuming love for his best friend.

The hand on his arm squeezed just once, looking to get Joe's attention, and Patty certainly got it when Joe jumped again.

"I'm fine," Joe rushed to say, keeping his gaze focused on where Patty's hand touched him. It was so much easier than looking him in the eye.

For a long moment, Patty continued to stare, scrutinizing. Then, he slowly released Joe's hand, making sure to drag his fingers against Joe's wrist before letting him go.

And then, as if to prove a point, he took out his MP3 player, put on his headphones, closed his eyes, and slumped back in his seat, slouching far enough to the left that he was pressed against Joe from shoulder to hip, even with the armrest between them.

Patty was asleep before takeoff.

Joe sat up straight and pressed himself as close to the aisle as possible, absolutely unmoving, for the entirety of the flight.

He didn't sleep at all.

His anxiety only worsened when they disembarked the plane and went to board a bus. Joe had tried to somehow lose Patty in the mix of their teammates, and it had worked at first, slipping out of his seat as soon as he was able and letting some of the guys fill in the space behind him in the tight aisle, before Patty even had a chance to stand.

But Patty was like a bad penny, reappearing at Joe's side in the airport terminal as if he'd never left. And he was on Joe the entire walk to the bus, sticking so close that his hand brushed Joe's arm a few times as they walked.

It felt less like he was going to try to hold Joe's hand, and more like a parent prepared to snatch their child by the wrist and drag them off if their kid wandered too far.

Joe would have been tempted to test it, if he wasn't entirely sure that Patty would have hauled him wherever he damn well pleased with that same smug grin on his face the whole time.

So they sat together on the bus, this time with Patty chivvying Joe into the window seat to prevent a repeat of any shenanigans from the plane.

And Joe was trapped sitting next to him, knowing that what would follow would be Patty ensuring they were stuck in a hotel room together again, because perhaps his hockey routine was truly that important to him if he was so dead set on maintaining this farce. It would be awful, and Joe wouldn't sleep a wink the entire time, and might have to resort to sleeping in a fucking onesie because just the idea of undressing around Patty in a closed room with just the two of them made his skin crawl with anxiety, and really, wasn't that the purest sign that something was well and truly fucked up here?

He should have asked the staff to give them different rooms before now, but he was sure after how today had gone that Patty would have contested it, and they'd have given in because Patty was Patty: the loyal, honest, dependable captain, and a master manipulator when he was wearing that smile.

For whatever godforsaken reason, Patty wanted them to stay roommates, and he always got his way.

Well, Joe was going to save Patty from himself if it was the last thing he did.

He glanced around the bus under the guise of trying to stretch and crack his neck; it was all too easy to spot his victim.

It was painstaking to tap out the message on his small phone screen while keeping it angled towards the window, but he made it work.

_U need 2 swap rooms w me_

He could see the moment that his message was received, because Little Joe's head snapped up and he turned to stare at Joe over the tops of the seats with wide, saucer-like eyes. And then he immediately slumped in his seat and started pressing buttons on his own phone.

_But patty?_

_we need spce i need ur room tell pickles were roomies_

_?_

Joe didn't respond, sliding his phone back into his pocket. Pavs might be confused, but Joe knew that he'd do it. Perhaps it was taking advantage of his veteran status over a rookie, but having to room with the overly wholesome team captain was a relatively low-risk hazing activity when the worst that would happen to Little Joe was that he'd learn the many and varied virtues of the two-piece composite hockey stick.

When they reached the hotel in Columbus, Patty let Joe off the leash a bit, likely trusting that this time they would have to end up in the same place, so he didn't have to keep track of Joe's whereabouts.

Which gave Joe ample opportunity to swap cards with Pavs.

"Why are you switching rooms?" Pickles asked loudly; when Joe frantically shushed him, the little shit gave him the sort of flat stare that said that his volume was entirely intentional.

"Shut up, having new roommates is good for your development," Joe hissed.

The kid was entirely unflappable. "Yeah, but not you."

 _Ouch_. These rookies had no respect anymore.

"Whatever, suck it up." Joe pushed past his unenthusiastic new roommate and got into the elevator, mostly to avoid the moment that Patty realized that he and Joe weren't headed to the same room.

It was a relief when he finally made it to the hotel room, tension leaking out of his shoulders like he'd just managed to pull off some big con job. Things might be awkward with Patty later on, but it was for the best. Joe didn't think he could take another night sharing a room with Patty, not after what Joe had done last time. Not knowing that Patty thought he was so desperate and pathetic that he'd humor Joe _like that_.

Dumping his things on the bed nearest to the door (because he didn't know what bed Pickles preferred, but Joe was going to pull rank and get his normal bed no matter what), Joe went to the bathroom. He stood there when he was done washing his hands and splashed some water on his face, focusing on his breathing and reminding himself that the hard part was done now. He could relax.

Nodding to himself, he turned and opened the bathroom door, and nearly screamed and slammed it shut.

Patty was there, calmly hanging his game day suit in the closet.

"Somehow Eddie and I got our keycards swapped," he said mildly, like he was letting Joe know that the weather was going to be overcast tomorrow.

"Oh...did you." The little shit had probably all but thrown his key in Patty's face and gleefully confessed everything. And Little Joe would never stand up under pressure from his captain, he'd fold like a cheap deck of cards if Patty asked him what was really going on.

Joe really did need to do a better job of training his rookies.

Patty hummed, straightened an invisible crease in his button-down shirt before hanging it up, and then started digging in _Joe's_ suitcase to hang up his clothes too.

God, if that wasn't fucking embarrassing. They were way, _way_ too close for just bros, and Joe had to get this dialed back like yesterday.

"I can do that myself-" he started to say, but Patty spoke over him as if he didn't hear Joe talking.

"Somehow you and I got different hotel keys and room numbers, which I'm sure is a clerical error. Perhaps they mixed up the Joes."

The way he said it made it sound perfectly reasonable, if Joe didn't know Patty and couldn't tell that Patty was at the stage of pissed where he was angry but wasn't entirely sure why yet.

But he was going to figure it out, and then there'd be hell to pay.

Joe didn't particularly want to be there to witness it, let alone receive it.

"Yeah, maybe," he muttered. He didn't know what to do with this, what to say, what to think. Clearly, he wasn't escaping Patty this time – not without formally taking it to the team, which would lead to questions of what had gone wrong between them that two well-documented best friends would want new roommates, which would lead to Joe having to admit at least part of what had happened, and that – he couldn't stand that. He couldn't admit his sins to the whole team, not if he wanted to keep his career. California may have been liberal, but the NHL wasn't.

"Well, no matter," Patty said brightly. "Get changed, I'm thinking we should go to that steakhouse again-"

"I'm not hungry," Joe interjected. He regretted it immediately, if only because it was an absolute lie, and now he'd have to avoid eating entirely or sneak food later if he wanted to keep the lie alive, and Patty was a bloodhound for when Joe was lying.

He narrowed his eyes at Joe, assessing him, and Joe felt like he was undergoing an x-ray. That or a telepathic brain scan.

"You don't look sick." Patty's words were more challenge than statement.

Joe grimaced and shrugged, gaze sliding across the floor. He hoped the cleaning staff had actually vacuumed. "Just not feeling like eating right now."

Patty continued watching him, and Joe continued watching the floor, until Patty abruptly nodded. "Whatever, we'll stay in and get room service, then."

For whatever reason Patty thought that room service would be more palatable to someone who was complaining of no appetite, perhaps because he thought that if Joe was going to be ill, at least he'd have a quicker route to the bathroom in his own hotel room versus a restaurant.

"I'm probably just going to shower and go to bed, don't stay in just for me." Joe cursed himself internally as he dug the hole deeper and deeper, because now he'd committed himself to a set of behaviors he didn't feel like doing yet, and that deviated from their normal routine.

Well, if Joe had his way their whole routine was getting a major shakeup soon, so perhaps it wasn't the worst thing in the world.

He thought this up until Patty shrugged and said, "Doesn't matter, I'll order food and you can eat it when you feel ready for it."

His tone brooked no argument; there'd be no talking him into joining their teammates at a restaurant and leaving Joe behind.

Damn his infallible loyalty.

At least an early bedtime had never killed anybody, Joe considered. And he was way too anxious to get it up, which was a blessing in disguise that he'd never before thought about. He still spent far too long in the bathroom, hoping against hope that this would fast-forward their nightly routine and Patty would be already unconscious when Joe left the bathroom.

No such luck: Patty was sitting cross-legged on his bed, scrolling through texts on his phone, when Joe reentered the hotel room. He took one glance up at Joe and frowned.

"Why are you wearing a shirt?"

Joe had never thought he'd be embarrassed to be asked why he was wearing basic clothing, but there was a first time for everything. He tried not to focus on his flaming complexion as he climbed onto his own bed, tugging the sheets up over his lap like they were an armor to shield him from Patty's scrutiny.

"It's cold," he mumbled, even though Patty had the heat blasting, and Joe naturally ran hot. To support his statement, he laid down and tugged the blankets up to his shoulder. He grimaced and shifted towards the wall, away from the bright light of the lamp and away from any judging eyes.

"I have room service coming," Patty said, almost as an accusation.

"That's okay, it won't keep me up." Sometimes being obtuse was for the best, because it wasn't like it was a lie – while Patty couldn't sleep with lights on, Joe could sleep in a construction zone in full daylight.

Lights and sounds might not keep him up, but the big knotted ball of anxiety in his gut would do it. At this point he felt queasy enough that he really didn't have an appetite, and that should have been a warning sign on its own.

He thought that Patty might argue it – he really did seem geared up for an argument already – but he didn't. He let it, and Joe, lie, and put on the tv, watching the evening news with the volume turned down low. It was the casual sort of considerateness that made Joe's heart ache, because those were the small things that made him love Patty – that made him want what he couldn't have. What he didn't _deserve_ to have.

Whatever Patty ordered for room service arrived not much later. Joe kept his eyes closed and didn't move as Patty quietly thanked the person who brought the food and settled it on the room's small table.

"Joe?" Patty's voice called softly. "The food is here; I got you soup."

God, he was too fucking good for Joe, and Joe kept right on proving that by pretending he was asleep.

After a moment of waiting, Patty sighed and started eating his own food, silverware clinking gently against his dish. Joe wished he was half as tired as he'd pretended to be, because he felt like he couldn't turn his brain off, couldn't just relax and actually go to sleep when every part of him was hyperfocused on what Patty was doing behind him.

It felt like half a lifetime, listening to the sounds of the silverware. Then the tv was turned off and Patty dug around in his suitcase for a bit before stepping into the bathroom. And that would have been a prime time to go to sleep, if sleep was a thing that Joe was going to get tonight. But it wasn't, so Joe continued laying there, yelling at himself to sleep, while Patty showered and got dressed and brushed his teeth and all of the other parts of his evening routine.

And then he quietly padded back into the room, fiddled around with his bag a bit more. Joe thought he was going to pull out one of his books and read for a bit before bed – that was a pretty typical part of his evening routine – and so he was immensely surprised when Patty sighed quietly, right before there was a dip in Joe's mattress behind him, and a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Joe. I know you're awake."

Patty was so calm and factual, like Joe's mom that time in high school when she quietly confronted Joe to tell him that she _knew_ that he'd been taking the car out without permission so he might as well not bother arguing and let her skip right to the part where she was disappointed he'd even think of pretending otherwise. Joe was tempted to give up the ghost immediately, but the fear of having to actually speak to Patty about any of this was enough to have him keeping up the ruse.

Well, at least until Patty sighed again and said a bit louder, "Joe, I know what you look like when you're sleeping, and we both know you can't sleep on your side. Besides, I'd bet anything you're still wearing socks, and we both know that you kick those off the second you fall asleep."

Typically Joe got butterflies when he thought of how well he and Patty knew each other, but this was not one of those times. It was a true sign of being a bit too close when your best friend knew your nocturnal sock habits.

He waited a few seconds longer, but when Patty gave no sign of leaving any time soon, Joe sighed and pressed his face further into the bedding.

"I'm sleeping," he mumbled, because he didn't need to be mature if he was sleeping.

Patty was predictably unimpressed, but he mostly sounded disappointed and perhaps a little hurt, and that made it so, so much worse.

"Joe," he said quietly. "I think we need to have a talk."

Back in his first few years in Boston, Joe had been dating a girl named Laura. They'd had a really great relationship – she was smart, and fun, and they had the same energy level, always challenging each other to dumb little competitions just because they could. Joe could have seen himself settling down with her, and she could see it too – and that's what had scared her, because she liked Joe, but she didn't like the hockey player lifestyle. He'd known that for a while, that she was frustrated with how much he was away, with how even when he was home, he wasn't around much. They both wanted kids, and Laura had grown up with a single mom; she knew just how hard that was, and had made it very clear that if she were to have kids, it had to be an equal partnership.

She'd also made it clear that she wasn't sure that she'd be able to have that with Joe, not while he was still playing hockey. The writing had been on the wall for a while, but Joe was afraid to just have that final confrontation and be done with it, because he loved her, and he didn't want her to go. If he didn't address the problem, then he could pretend for just a little while longer that they could keep this forever, that it wouldn't have to end.

He'd been a coward about it, and he'd made Laura be the one to end things. She'd said those exact same words, that same, soft, "Joe, I think we need to have a talk," and even though Joe knew exactly what that conversation was going to be, knew exactly how much he didn't want to hear it and how much it was going to hurt, it _still_ was not anywhere near as terrifying as the conversation he was about to have with Patty.

Joe had loved Laura, he'd lived with Laura and tossed around the idea of marrying her, and losing her wasn't as bad as having his best friend who he'd barely touched tell him that they couldn't be friends anymore because Joe was disgusting and needy and ruined their friendship.

That said a few things about his priorities that he didn't want to think about.

But he owed it to Patty to at least suck it up and look him in the eye when he said his piece. It was the least he could do, if it was the last meaningful conversation they were going to have.

Steeling himself, he rolled over and sat up, so they could at least be looking at each other eye-to-eye.

Patty looked a little more haggard than usual. Joe always liked him when they were getting ready for bed, when Patty would look soft and sleepy, eyes drooping behind his reading glasses. But now he just looked exhausted and troubled and perhaps a little hurt, and the sight did nothing but make Joe's heart ache even more.

He grimaced and looked down at the ubiquitous beige hotel bedspread in his lap. "Um. What did you want to talk about?"

_"Joe."_

It was exasperated and disappointed and scolding all in one, and it made Joe feel all of six inches tall. Maybe Patty noticed it, or maybe he didn't, but he didn't let it stop him from steamrolling ahead.

"We both know that things between us have been...off, this past week or so, and you've been pretty blatantly trying to avoid me all day. What the fuck?"

It was the most heartfelt _what the fuck_ that Joe had ever heard, and it just made him cringe.

He wished Pat wouldn't play dumb about it.

"I'm not... _avoiding you_ -avoiding you," he mumbled. When Patty made a disbelieving noise, Joe protested, "I'm giving us space! Look, I, after we – with what happened – I need space."

"You need...space." He could feel Patty's judgment like an albatross hanging heavy around his neck.

"Um...yeah?" God, his voice hadn't cracked like that since he was a kid. "Pat, when we – we definitely haven't been on the same page for a long time, and I need to get us back on the same page, and the only way to do that is for me to get some space so that I can just...clear things up."

"Clear things up."

Patty's voice was somehow getting impossibly flatter.

Joe grimaced and cleared his throat, twisted his hands in his sheets. "Yes. Clear my head. It's not-" He pressed his lips together and finally looked up at Patty, hoping that his burning eyes didn't get as watery as he thought they might.

"Pat, you gotta know, I can't just get over you in a few days. I'm going to work on it, I'm going to fix it, and I'm so, so sorry for – for all of this, but you have to give me time. I want to make this right, but I have to get over you first, and that might mean we shouldn't spend so much time together, or be roommates, or-"

"Wait, you want to _break up_?"

"-eat meals togeth- what?" Joe blinked at Patty, like clearing his vision could also reboot his auditory comprehension skills.

He'd never forget how wide Patty's eyes looked now, nor how _crushed_ , like Joe had just broken horrible news and he couldn't bring himself to believe it.

It was fitting, because Joe was playing back the last few seconds in his head and he couldn't believe it either.

"Why would you want to _get over me_ if you weren't breaking up with me?" Patty snapped; he always did cover his hurt with anger, and Joe hated how well he knew that.

Joe also hated how high his voice got when he yelped, " _Break up with you?_ You don't even _like_ me!"

Patty reared back, face crinkling up as if he'd just been presented with something bizarre and disgusting. "What are you talking about? We've been dating for months-"

" _What-_ "

"-and now you're just dumping this on me-"

"- _how_ can we be dating if-"

"-you didn't even tell me something was wrong-"

"-we don't even kiss!"

Joe somehow won their competition, words tilting nearly into a shout, chest heaving with exertion and heart hurting from something more. It wasn't even satisfying to see his words landing, because Patty's confusion only twisted into more hurt.

"We've kissed," Patty said quietly, almost a little defensively.

Joe would have laughed if it wouldn't have sounded so bitter.

"Barely, because I badgered you into it, or you were taking pity on me, because I was – annoying you, or pushing you into it, in fucking _hotel rooms_ , and that's not-" His voice broke and he looked at the muted green wallpaper, willing his eyes not to burn. "Come on, Pat, you can't tell me that's a relationship."

Patty scoffed, "A relationship isn't just about kissing."

Joe turned back to him now with a frown. "Not entirely, but it's the sort of thing you do on a first date. Second date at the latest. I told you I wanted to date you-"

"You said you wanted to _fuck_ me-"

"- _and_ date you! I said I wanted to date you, and I asked if I could kiss you, and you said _maybe later_ , and then when you did let me kiss you, the moment I touched you, you walked off in the middle of it and came back acting like nothing happened, and I thought I ruined everything and I tried to back off, and then you caught me jerking off and acted like you were into it, and then you – you kissed me, and you _touched_ me, and you weren't – you didn't-"

His huff was embarrassingly close to a sob, desperate and wet and out of words to express all the emotions roiling around in his chest.

"Pat," he said quietly, miserably, "Why didn't you just tell me no?"

In that moment, as Patty stared at him, expression troubled and lips twisted into a frown, Joe was pretty sure that they were not on the same page, or reading from the same book, or perhaps even in the same library. And he didn't think he'd ever felt so scared in his life.

He watched as Patty pursed his lips and took a deep breath, looking like he was counseling himself before he spoke.

"I think," he began slowly, "That perhaps we've been misunderstanding each other."

Joe had to bite back his initial sarcastic response and temper it into, "Um, probably, because you think we're dating, but I was pretty sure we weren't, seeing as you...you know...told me no..." He trailed off into a silence that was probably more awkward than if he'd just said nothing at all.

Patty looked uncomfortable, chagrinned. "I said that because I thought you were teasing. I'd already thought we were dating, and I thought you were just messing around."

It was like his brain was melting. "How could I be teasing? We'd never even talked about it! We'd never kissed!"

"A relationship isn't just about kissing!" If Patty had sounded defensive the first time he'd said it, he sounded downright angry now. And then he realized himself and grimaced, leaned back a little bit.

"I'm not..." He looked away from Joe and sighed as if he was bracing himself before turning back. "I don't need that in a relationship. Kissing, sex, any of that. That's not what makes a relationship for me, and a lot of the time I'd be happier without it."

His words built as he spoke, in rhythm and in volume, and Joe wanted to interject, wanted to choke on his dawning horror of what he might have done, but he couldn't interrupt Patty, not with that determination in his eyes.

He always had been attracted to Patty's determination.

"I've never really liked sex," Patty said, eyes fierce, daring Joe to comment. "It's not disgusting, but it's messy and sometimes it's boring and I have better ways to spend my time. And no, it's not a medical condition, which is what my last boyfriend kept suggesting. I've always felt that way – even back when I was a kid and all my teammates started talking about sex, everyone kept saying that I'd be that way one day too, and it never happened. I've had sex, and sometimes it feels good, but it's not – I don't look for it, and usually I don't want it.

"And kissing, and cuddling, that's – it's not bad, but I don't just do it with anyone, because a relationship to me is about _intimacy_. I want to do those things with someone because I love them, not just for the sake of doing it. I want the intimacy, and we, we have that, Joe." His eyes were bright, passionate, and this was the captain of the San Jose Sharks, firing up his team before a must-win game. This was Patrick Marleau, _demanding_ that Joe agree that they had a relationship – that they were _in love, holy fuck_.

Patty started ticking things off on his fingers, "We go out to eat all the time, we spend our days off together, we've met each other's parents, your mom loves me, my mom's been pestering me with ideas of what to get you for Christmas. We play amazing hockey together, it's like we're in our own universe on the ice, and I love that. I love that you know what I'm going to do before I do it, and I love that I can tell when you're tired or angry or planning some shit that you don't want the rookies to find out about. I love that I'm the first person you come to when you have good news or you want to share a funny story, and you heard that my sink was leaking and you wouldn't let me call a plumber because you wanted to get a _Plumbing for Dummies_ book and fix it for me yourself."

"It's cheaper to do it yourself," Joe mumbled weakly. And Patty's face _lit up_.

"And I love that about you, I just – I love you, Joe, and I know you love me, and our relationship has already been everything that I wanted, and I just thought...I thought you knew. I thought you'd tell me if you needed more."

Joe's words came out numb, his brain still repeating the _I love you_. "I didn't even know we were dating."

Patty grimaced. "Yeah, I'm seeing that now."

"I just – you love me?" He couldn't focus without saying it, without confirming it, because it was so at odds with everything he'd felt for the past week – the past few months, honestly.

Patty's hand landed on top of his; he laced their fingers together and gently extracted Joe's hand from where it was twisted in the sheets.

"Yeah," he said quietly, smile so soft, so warm and fond and – oh, that was the love. "Part of me thinks I've loved you since the draft."

Joe snorted, because it was ridiculous, and it was sappy, and part of him wanted so badly to believe it.

"I do love you," he said, because he had to, because he couldn't continue this conversation without confirming it. "And I thought – I guess we don't...see relationships the same way. Because all this time, since the last road trip...I mean, I thought we weren't going to be friends anymore. I thought I'd read you wrong and destroyed everything, and-"

"No," Patty interjected firmly, like he had to drown out the sheer possibility of that happening. "That could never happen."

"I pushed you into sex!" Joe protested, because he had to say it, had to confess his sin if Patty wasn't going to bring it up. He might not get absolution, but he had to acknowledge it if they were ever to go forward with this. "You just said that you don't like sex, and I kept – doing things, in front of you, and I asked you to have sex, and you'd said no, and then I told you to touch me and you did, and it was all just – I _forced that_ on you, and I can't just-"

He'd never actually had someone put their hand in front of his mouth when he was speaking, but he immediately shut up when Patty did it. And Patty was gentle about it, but his hand was unyielding as he tilted Joe's chin until they were looking each other in the eye.

"Joe," he said quietly, "You have never forced me into anything, or done anything I didn't want you to do. I kissed you because I wanted you, and I touched you because I knew it would make you happy."

"It doesn't _matter_ if it makes me happy if you don't even _like_ it!"

"It matters to me," Patty said sharply. "It's my body and I get to decide what I do with it. Sex might not mean a lot to me, but I'm learning that it definitely means a lot to you. And I might not want to get off a lot, but that doesn't mean it doesn't mean something to me to get you off. It doesn't mean I don't want to have intimacy with you, or hold you, or be with you. And in retrospect, I probably did you a disservice in not telling you my limits on being touched, and that's on me. I should have explained the first time it happened, and if I'd realized how much it bothered you I would have said something a long time ago.

"But this whole time, you've done absolutely nothing wrong. And I might not feel like it very often if at all, but if I do want to be sexual, I want it to be with you. And if you want to have sex, I want you to talk to me about it, and not just assume that I don't want it, or that I don't want you. I want to – I want this to be equal. I want us to be partners, and that means compromise."

It was a lot – it was more than Joe thought he could unpack in a single evening, when his brain was still caught back on the part where they _loved each other_ – but it sounded like maybe this whole thing was workable. Maybe it was – maybe they could figure something out.

Maybe they could be together.

"This isn't a very sexy conversation," he mumbled, because he always was thirteen at heart.

"Compromise is always sexy," Patty corrected, squeezing Joe's hand. "There's nothing sexier than giving up something to make sure both you and your partner feel understood."

He made it sound so practical, so smart, that Joe couldn't quite believe that this man assumed that they were dating when they'd never so much as held hands.

"In the spirit of compromise, I should probably give you my list of demands," he said, suddenly feeling a bit shy when it came to asking for things. But Patty perked right up, like this was the thing he actually got off on.

"Yes. This is exactly what we need. Tell me."

Joe tried to hide his smile, looked down at their joined hands.

"This." He squeezed their hands. "I like – this sort of stuff. I want to hold your hand, and cuddle on the couch, and I really think we should share a bed – even without sex!" he hurried to add, but Patty just smiled fondly.

"I just want...to me, a relationship has that stuff, and kissing hello, and hugging, and dumb pet names, and being able to put my hand on your waist, and..." he trailed off into a shrug, losing steam as he realized how lengthy that list was.

"It might be too much," Joe mumbled, eyes flicking down to their hands again. "But that's – that's relationship stuff, for me."

He watched as Patty slowly ran his thumb over Joe's own; when he looked up, Patty was smiling warmly.

"That's not too much. I can do all of that. And if sex is important to you, I don't want it to be off the table."

Joe's eyes flew wide. "But you don't-"

Patty cut him off by squeezing his hand. "Let me finish. You can kiss me and touch me whenever you want. I probably won't usually want you to touch me below the waist, and I'll let you know if I'm up for that. But just because I don't get physically aroused that much doesn't mean that I'm not attracted to you, or that I don't love you or think you're the sexiest man I've ever seen – the fact that you're wearing a shirt right now is physically painful to me because I'm used to getting to see you topless, and I know how much you like it too. So if you want me to touch you in any way, I want you to tell me, because I want to make you happy too."

"...Okay," Joe agreed slowly. He was pretty sure he'd just stick to jerking off in the shower for the rest of his life, but he could still get behind waiting for Patty to tell him if he wanted to do anything.

He jumped when Patty jabbed him in the ribs with his pointy, pointy free hand.

"Hey!" he complained, rubbing his side, but Patty was entirely unremorseful. His expression was steely, and also just a step up from pouting.

"Don't just agree with me to humor me, this is serious. I told you before that if you're going to jerk off, you should at least do it where I can see it. Even if I'm not touching you, it doesn't mean I don't want to be involved."

"But you don't even like-"

Patty jabbed him again. "Stop telling me I don't like sex, I know I don't like sex. I like getting you off and making you happy. I like that you'll listen to what I ask you to do and you trust me to take care of you. _That_ , to me, is a hell of a lot sexier than someone touching my dick."

An idea was formulating in Joe's head, one that seemed so bizarrely disparate from everything they'd been discussing that he struggled to put it into words.

"Patty, are you like...is this your kink?"

He knew enough to dodge when Patty lashed out again, and he was already laughing when Patty then released his grip on Joe's hand just so he could use both hands to push Joe down to the mattress.

"You jackass, don't say it like that," he griped, wrestling with Joe even though Joe was giggling too hard to really fight back. "We were having a moment!"

"Ooh, Pat, tell me more things I shouldn't do," Joe cooed between giggles, twisting away as Patty's fingers dug into his ribs.

"You're a menace," Patty growled.

"Yeah, but I'm yours, right?" It came out more sincere than Joe had hoped, cut closer to the quick than he'd wanted, but at the same time he needed the answer, was desperate for that confirmation.

And Patty smiled down at him, endlessly fond, and said, "You've always been mine. You're never getting rid of me."

He leaned down to kiss Joe, and despite having kissed multiple times before, Joe could have sworn that it felt like the first time.

And he thought, as he lightly pressed his hands to Patty's hips, that it wouldn't be the last.

He couldn't wait.

+1.5

It honestly wasn't something Joe was thinking about, when it happened. They'd been together – officially, that is, with both parties aware of their anniversary date – for a few months, and if it was going to happen, Joe would have expected it to be during the All-Star Weekend, when they spent the whole thing drunk and giggling and surrounded by other drunk hockey players making bad decisions together.

If they were going to fuck, it just seemed like they'd do it when everyone else was.

But their relationship had never been fully conventional, and so after months filled with handjobs and a few surprising blowjobs and plenty of Patty whispering dirty things in Joe's ear while he watched Joe get off, they'd settled into a pretty normal sort of rhythm. Joe still took a bit of prompting to ask Patty for what he wanted, always trying to keep his desires as unobtrusive as possible until Patty rolled his eyes and said something casually filthy like, "Jumbo, stop making excuses and jerk off on my face already." And Patty was better about verbalizing when making out was getting too handsy for him, instead of just exiting the room and leaving Joe feeling like he'd done something wrong.

Patty had smugly announced that their positive communication was the sexiest part of their relationship, often enough that Joe had considered getting it on a mug for him. He was sure that Patty would use it in front of the team if he did. Now that they'd agreed on acceptable levels of PDA, Patty seemed to have actually developed quite the thing for showing Joe off in front of others.

Seeing as most of their teammates seemed to have actually been under the impression that they were in some form of a relationship, the team didn't really see a difference in them when they started dating for real.

Which, if anything, gave some credence to Patty's beliefs that they were already together – not that Joe would ever let him win that argument.

So by a few months in, they'd really started to find their groove. They'd even shared a few of the most surprisingly platonic showers that Joe had ever had in his life, because apparently it did something for Patty to get to wash Joe's hair. That also happened to be one of the few times that Joe actually saw Patty's dick, outside of when they were getting dressed.

And to his own surprise, he'd really been okay with that. If asked a year ago if he'd ever have a relationship with a guy who wouldn't let him touch their cock, he'd probably balk at it. But it wasn't that different from relationships he'd had in the past, at the end of the day. If anything, it helped that they were so open with each other: points for Patty's positive communication mantra, but they did their best to fulfill each other's desires, and problems got solved a lot faster when they expressed them right away instead of letting them fester.

Maybe it was partly because they'd both been in love with each other before they'd ever formally started dating – it was certainly the most emotionally invested Joe had ever been in a relationship after such a short amount of time. But Joe liked to think that it really was just because they were finally, _finally_ back on the same page.

So once they'd gotten into the normal rhythm of their relationship, Joe perhaps wasn't expecting it when, on a random off-day in March, Patty watched Joe stretch and groan as he went to stand from the couch, gave him a considering look, and asked, "Hey, do you want to ride my dick?"

Joe spun to look at him, caught his foot on the coffee table and went sprawling across the floor. But he was popping back up before Patty could even begin to look concerned, bracing one hand on the couch and the other on the coffee table, gritting his teeth through the smarting of a sure-to-be-future bruise and saying, "Yes, yes, oh my God, yes."

"Are you-"

"Patrick Marleau if you take this away from me _I swear to God-_ "

He knelt in front of Patty and put his hands on Patty's thighs, rubbed his hands on the grey cotton of his sweatpants. Speaking directly to Patty's crotch, he said, "Oh, buddy, am I excited to meet you."

"We're breaking up," Patty announced.

But he was smiling as he leaned down and tilted Joe's head up for a kiss, and he was smiling as Joe reverently undressed him, and he was smiling as Joe rode him there on the couch, panting and gasping and burying his moans against Patty's neck.

And he even smiled when Joe loudly whispered, "See you in six months," to his dick when they were done, because his boyfriend was an idiot, but then, so was he sometimes. And he knew they'd still be together, in six months and twelve months and twelve years.

And for once, they were finally on the same page.

**Author's Note:**

> **SPOILERS**: flufflybunnypants and I headcanon Patty as being somewhere on the asexual spectrum, where he is not sex-repulsed, but he really does not have a lot of personal interest in it. He's far more interested in emotional intimacy, but he's willing to be sexual with Joe to an extent, because Joe is a very sexual person and that's an important part of a relationship for Joe. However, Patty is a dumbass just like Joe, and he makes the assumption that Joe is picking up what he's putting down and can just magically divine Patty's feelings about sex, meaning that Joe makes a lot of blunders where he goes to touch Patty sexually and Patty stops him or pushes him away. This leads to Joe feeling very confused and guilty, and at points Joe thinks he's basically forced himself on Patty because he went to touch Patty (not knowing that Patty wasn't interested) and Patty pushed him away. Joe does stop immediately when Patty asks him to stop, and it all could have been avoided if the idiots had their Positive Communication Skills discussions BEFORE they started kissing/touching each other.  
> (Also Patty is a possessive bitch and is the dommiest ace person ever, like he just lives the lifestyle, man, he's gonna dress his man and pick out his food and Joe is so stupid he's like "god what a nice best friend I have")
> 
> Re: questions of Why Is Patty Like This: it’s a variety of things. For one, we give him too much credit for being the responsible one in a relationship when he is a Dumb Boy too. Second, this relationship is everything he’s always dreamed of and it’s so obvious to him that they’re dating (their teammates tease them about being in love and Joe makes jokes back!) that he thinks they’re on the same wavelength without saying anything (and they both make a lot of assumptions about the other automatically understanding them - they buy too much into being on the same page). Third and most importantly, Patty has likely lost relationships before when he’s come out as ace. And I think there’s some willful ignorance where he doesn’t WANT that Big Relationship Discussion because that opens him up to being hurt. So if he can put that off and tell himself Joe understands, he can continue having the relationship he’s always wanted and not risk rejection again. It’s not the healthy choice but half my headcanon for Patty is pointing out all the little ways he’s not as perfect as fandom sometimes portrays, because I think that makes him more fun to write.
> 
> I will leave you with this quote I gave while I was writing this fic: _This is the most Catholic guilt-influenced masturbation scene ever written with zero religious overtones._
> 
> I'm [swedishgoaliemafia on Tumblr](https://swedishgoaliemafia.tumblr.com/).


End file.
